


In the Line of Duty

by thedevilchicken



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clones, M/M, Mutual Pining, Waiting, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Obi-Wan sometimes wonders what would have happened to the clones if the war had never started.





	In the Line of Duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batdad (MizGoat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizGoat/gifts).



Obi-Wan sometimes wonders what would have happened to the clones if the war had never started. 

There is no slavery under the Republic, at least in theory, and so he wonders what they would have done if they hadn't been required for battle. He would very much like to believe that they would have been welcomed to society: he would have liked to see clone chefs cooking in expensive restaurants, clone businessmen flying high in trade, clone politicians, artists, archaeologists, but he has his doubts. There is no slavery under the Republic, but he wonders how many doors would have closed on how many too-familiar faces until closed doors made them mercenaries, or else debt collectors hired by the Banking Clan, or enforcers for the Hutt cartels. He would like to be wrong, but he suspects he's not. 

Obi-Wan sometimes wonders what will happen to the clones when the war has ended. He has come to the same unfortunate conclusion: the Senate will vote to accord them all the rights they should have had since the very beginning, but acceptance will still be weak, hard-fought and everywhere lacking. This is, of course, if any of them live to see victory. This is, of course, if victory ever comes at all. 

He's feeling morose because although the bacta has healed the gash in his calf from their last intrepid mission, he still hasn't been discharged from the infirmary. He's on his ship with the 212th speeding through space to their next rendez-vous and he's still in charge - all of the despatches come to him there in what's nominally his sickbed, despite the fact that the med droids make attempts to wave away the messengers. He prefers to work, though, to keep his mind from pondering _what if_. His master always did say he should be mindful of the moment, and though not all of Qui-Gon's advice to him has proved useful in a galaxy at war, he often returns to that. 

The infirmary is not empty. The beds to either side of him are occupied: there's a Twi'lek politician with a head wound to his left and Commander Cody is to his right. Cody isn't injured; the infirmary is holding steady at one quarter of its theoretical maximum occupancy, so the commander apparently doesn't feel it's out of order for him to occupy a bed himself. He's sleeping there now, stripped down to his black bodysuit with his armour piled neatly on the chairs that sit between their beds, because he said staying close was important logistically. Obi-Wan smiles faintly as he glances at him, lying there. He doesn't believe Cody's explanation any more now than he did then, and he certainly couldn't believe it any less. He knows if the bed weren't free he would have slept in the chair instead, in his armour, but Obi-Wan has done them both the kindness of not pointing that out. 

Sometimes, Cody seems to believe it's his responsibility to keep an eye on his Jedi, and Obi-Wan appreciates the sentiment because he understands it for what it is: Cody is his second in command, and Cody is in love with him. He tried and failed to discourage that fact as soon as he became aware of it, but he understands that very little in the way of choice enters into such matters; it's his assumption that Cody would prefer he hadn't fallen victim to it, too, though it's not a thing that they discuss. Sometimes, however, Obi-Wan wishes that they could. This is one of those times, though he wishes that it weren't.

There are curtains on rails that can surround each bed in the infirmary, and those by the beds in which Obi-Wan and Cody are currently residing are partially closed but open to each other. Cody's bed is at the end of the room, far from doors and drawers and the general thoroughfare, so the gap between their curtains doesn't seem as much an obstacle to privacy as the fact that Obi-Wan would have to whisper to ensure that no one else listens in on their private conversations. But Cody's sleeping, the curtains blocking out some of the harsh, bright light, and Obi-Wan has paused over his latest despatch to watch him fondly. He would know him from amongst a thousand other troopers, and not only because of his rather identifiable scar. He would know him, and not only due to the feeling of him in the Force that Obi-Wan can read just like a fingerprint. All he would have to do is see the way he looks at him. 

He tried to discourage what Cody feels for him on the grounds of impropriety, the Jedi code, their military hierarchy - whatever he could conjure to make the prospect unappealing, gently as he did it. But when Cody asked, "Do _you_ want me to stop?" he knew he didn't. None of his objections were personal. Perhaps that's why Cody has never stopped, or even tried to. 

He watches Cody sleeping in the next bed, only half underneath the blanket, and he feels a warm surge of affection in his chest. Cody is his friend and the best trooper he knows, and he wonders sometimes what would have happened to the clones if the war had never started; he wonders if they would have met if their collective duty hadn't been the battles they fight. He would like to think so, and further he would like to think they would have met under better circumstances, Cody a teacher or or instructor or professional security consultant, or by chance, in any street on any planet, and a moment's serendipity might have then ensued. The notion is absurd, but he wonders if something in each of them would have recognised the other, even then. 

He watches Cody sleeping and he wonders what will happen to the clones when the war has ended. He knows Cody makes no plans because he does not expect to live, and Obi-Wan wills him to be wrong, and he wonders what he'd do instead. Clones would make excellent bodyguards, the Senate would likely be quick to point out; perhaps if he were to remain on Coruscant, Obi-Wan might still sometimes see him, across a crowded room, or in a speeder rushing by, and raise his hand to wave. But he knows that polite acquaintance would not be enough for Cody. He understands. He understands because he feels it, too.

A month ago, trapped in a ship with their engines blown, when they thought they might well die in space, Cody kissed him; Obi-Wan reciprocated, just for a moment, before he pulled back. He knew he couldn't, or at the very least he knew he _shouldn't_ , but he recalls how his heart leapt up and his fingers tingled. Three weeks ago, Cody kissed him again; he's thought about it in almost every waking moment since. Two weeks ago, Cody kissed him _again_ , hotter, harder, more insistent; it took every ounce of self-control that Obi-Wan had inside to say no to him. He didn't want to. He almost didn't see why he should.

Sometimes, he wonders what will happen to the clones after the war, but he wonders about Cody in particular. He could see him doing many things: marrying, fathering children, but the notion is inconsistent at best. What Cody wants is something else, and Obi-Wan knows it. 

A week ago, Obi-Wan closed his eyes as their foreheads touched and he told him, _I can't, I'm sorry, I can't_. Cody seemed to understand: they both have duties to fulfil before their time might be their own. Whatever Obi-Wan might want, whatever Cody might, it will have to wait. Obi-Wan hopes it does. 

When he thinks about the future, Cody's there, just like he is now, asleep on the next bed. The difference is, he'd like it to be one they share. He's never said _never_ ; he's only ever said _not yet_.

When he thinks about the future, he hopes that they meet it together. 


End file.
